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Today can go poke it…

7 Jul

im_having_a_bad_dayMost days you will find me in ‘fine fettle’; rubbing along nicely with the world; positive outlook; pretty confident in my abilities; very happy with my lot.

Today is not one of those days.

Today I am over-tired, stressed and tearful.  Every single action is a slog, every single tiny request is overwhelming. civility in communication is a struggle.

I’m sure I’m not unique.  I skip along with my multi-faceted life, doing a million and one different jobs, perfectly happily.  I juggle an overloaded diary and still enjoy a night out.  And then, sometimes, I don’t.

Today I woke up after a fitful night – too hot, lots of irritating midge bites and a fly buzzing around the room all night.  I woke up with a start an hour before I needed to, with a heavy heart and a disturbed gut.  And then the day assaulted me. It went from nought to sixty in record time and I could barely breathe from the force of it.  Hubby trying to leave to take my car  (a classic, 1968 Hillman Husky named Ffloyd) the 13 miles for its MOT only to discover that it had a completely flat battery and needed push starting; B&B guests an hour earlier than expected for breakfast AND at the exact same moment as the car pushing incident; teen son trying to pack and get away for a long road trip in his classic 1965 singer Chamois and all the last-minute questions and requests that involved.

This followed an exceptionally busy week.  An exceptionally busy diary for the next three weeks.  And a phone call from the guys who manages a flat I own near where we used to live saying that the boiler needs replacing…. The “we need £3000  out of thin air by tomorrow” type nightmare that brings you out in a blind panic.

So this afternoon I went for a nap.  Woke up, felt worse.  Not heard from son as no phone signal in my own house and he’s probably not there yet so there’s nothing to be told.   Ffloyd did pass his MOT. normally that would have me euphoric.

Room changes, last-minute bookings, ironing.  This whole summer, rather than seeing us through winter will pay for that bloody boiler , in that bloody flat, that I wish I never bought but can’t sell.  I must be the only person with Essex based property that suffers with negative equity.  NEVER, listen to those TV programs that tell you its a great deal to buy off plan.  Been stuck with this millstone for 12 years now.  Its one of those “luxury complexes” that turned out to be a bag of shit; built cheap by cowboys and has suffered from fire, flood and plague of locusts (well cockroaches…and no I am not making it up), in the years I’ve had it; never mind destructive tenants; illegal immigrants and enforcement officers battering down the doors (at my expense).  I could go on; but I can feel myself building to a crescendo of self destruct.

Today I’ve shouted, and shed tears.

Tomorrow is another day.  May my more positive and happy-go-lucky normality resume.  In the meantime, today can go poke it.

When someone is not who you thought they were…

11 May

I lost a good friend this week.  Not because the person died.  Or even because we fell out (although I suspect we have); but because the person I thought he was turns out to be a lie.  Maybe not a total lie but a mish-mash of truth, non-truth, fabrication, fantasy and lies so deeply intertwined that unravelling the reality would be impossible.

I dated someone like this once.  I’d forgotten about it actually, perhaps the intense pain of it had been locked deep inside my internal filing system, locked with the key thrown away.  But the issues raised this week have forced open that lock; and with the advancement of my years; the lessons and experiences of various friends and more reading, I now recognise that the relationship I was in was unhealthy and that this person, whilst I am not one of the ones in a relationship with him, still exhibits the behaviour patterns.

Maybe I’m being melodramatic but I think that these days they might recognise it as “gaslighting”.  Gaslighting is defined as “to manipulate someone by psychological means into doubting their own sanity (own truth)”

Gaslighting – signs of…

It’s about the ability to baffle your mind.  Mixing moments of shared truth with detailed fabrication. The fabrication parts go into such depth and intertwine themselves with the bits you know to be true , this together with your love and trust for that person, your own sense of reality is lost.

The person will also take offence at your unwillingness to believe them; or be upset that you might question a representation of the truth that they present. They won’t like you talking to other people they are close to (as you might hear something different from them).  They will show so much compassion and concern at your subsequent confusion that you might wonder whether it is you being overly jealous; or maybe your memory of events is wrong; or maybe you are even mentally unwell.

This man from my past told me he loved me, behaved as if he loved me, spoke to me often and shared the intimate details of his past.  But he intertwined the truth of his life with detailed stories and complex lies.  We met abroad, he was working there, I was backpacking.  We were together over a year.  His truth that I knew was he had an ex in his home country.  I knew they had a child,  According to him she had been his childhood sweetheart but they had grown up and grown apart, their relationship was long over but he still saw and loved his son so they did see one another.  I had never asked to visit him at his home or meet any of his family least of all his son.  He instigated all that.  He wanted to fly me there, introduce me to his parents; meet his son.  To demonstrate he was serious he would phone me from a phone box (pre mobiles!!!) whilst with  his toddler and have me talk to the child on the phone.  He’d repeatedly tell me how he couldn’t wait for me to meet him..

The truth… my ticket never materialised.  She, his ex, was expecting their second child.  Turns out he had several other women too. some drunken sex others probably in the same boat as me.  Friends told me he had flings but he denied it;I thought I knew him; I didn’t see what was staring me in the face.  These and so many other things, should have been signs. They weren’t.  Love truly is blind.

Anyway, this is not something that has happened to me again but it is something I have seen happening to friends in the past .

Sadly,  it is now something I see happening to a couple of female friends who I know (because of him) and the perpetrator is a man I thought was something else.  He’s not.  It’s so sad because I really thought he was one of life’s rare, truly good guys.  It’s weird because I’m mourning the loss of a friendship.  I am in the cross fire of a situation I never wanted to be in and I don’t know how to handle it.  Part of me wants to ignore it and not lose my friend but I know too much that now I know what he has done we can never have the same friendship again.  Maybe we will have a friendship of sorts, it would be easier to have than not in a small community and with shared friendship circles, but that easy banter and easy access will never be there again.  Whatever the relationship becomes, it, like him, will be a fake.  I miss him.

Lucy At Home

…After the crash..

23 Apr

So yesterday I literally did nothing. I managed to get up and feed my B&B guests complete with smiling and chatting . Then I went back to bed. I slept until nearly 2pm… Despite Hubby trying to wake me at noon. I stayed awake long enough to reheat a cup of tea in the microwave. Sat on the front doorstep in the sun and fell asleep. Woke briefly when Hubby popped home. Long enough to get a pillow and a deck chair. Then slept in the sun.

Stayed awake to eat supper, fell asleep in front of TV. Had an early night and slept right through.

This was me crashing… I refer to my blog from yesterday … Oh yes I did find a moment or two to articulate my crash in blog form.. but that really was the extent of yesterday’s activities.

So today I am already three gardening jobs behind, racked with guilt and stressed by my backlog.

I sat down this evening, knackered and aching from head to toe. As I berated myself for my pathetic state I announced to myself “for Christ’s sake woman you only did 3 hours work today, get a grip”…. Long pause as I’m now lying in bed. This was my day:

Woke 7:30. Got up and prepped breakfast for our 6 B&B guests

Placed an order with our stained glass suppliers

Did 3 hours heavy digging and weed clearing.

Drove the 20 miles to our nearest  supermarket. Did the weekly shop

Collected our son

Unpacked shopping

Spent an hour tidying in my own garden

Had a bath

Cleaned the bathroom

Made a roast dinner…

… So to be fair, considering my physical and mental state… In fact, irrespective of my physical and mental state, today was pretty full.

..And now I can add, ‘wrote a blog’, to my achievements for today.

On that note, I am going to turn of the light and zzzzzzzzzzzz

Its a perfect day, if only I had the energy…

22 Apr

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…and rest

I’m writing this with one eye shut, hiding under a blanket in shame, hoping you won’t notice me. An irrational thread of worry that you will find me pathetic. A big dollop of feeling like a fraud.

I have this battle going on in my head ( imagine that image in movies with the saint and the devil on each shoulder whispering conflicting messages into your ears).

I’m knackered. Totally and utterly drained of energy. My head is trying to formulate action my body is in total all out protest fight.  I am not functioning.

Over the last week my body has ached more and more. My brain has fought against my body harder and harder. Today my body is on strike, a barrier has been built between my mind and muscles and my head hurts from bashing itself against it.

I’ve turned to mush. I managed to get up and serve my guests breakfast with all the energy, smiling and chatting that goes with that.  I had some breakfast and argued with my body to prepare for action. It’s the most glorious day. I have 5 outstanding gardening jobs to do. I’d rescheduled 2 for today and 3 for tomorrow.

The only thing my body would do was lay down. The only thing my mind would do was switch off. I lost my gorgeous sunny morning to sleep. Asked hubby to wake me around noon… It was an impossible task. I dragged myself downstairs at two. Microwaved the cup of tea he’d brought me two hours earlier.  I sat on the front door step hoping the gorgeous day would energise me…. I fell asleep with my head against the door frame.

I’m not ill. I shouldn’t be exhausted. Yes, I do a lot but I don’t really put in full days like I did when working for the man. I love my life and the closet of hats it comes with.

I do see a pattern. Note my post “life: mine:it’s full: .. Shortly after I get to the euphoric with life point;  the feeling of reaching a perfect balance. Shortly after exalting the joy and contentment I feel to my world, I run out of fuel and fall into decline.

Writing my last blog ( “life, mine..”) it was after our quiet season and into the growth and rebirth of the next. Spring had sprung. Guests were booking into our B&B; gardens needed tending; buds were forming on the trees and bushes; all those tender fluorescent green shoots dancing in warm breezes . Snowdrops, crocuses and daffodils; Camellia, forsythia and grape hyacinths splashed colour onto life’s canvas and everything, including me, felt so alive and vital.  And then there was overload.

The week that included Easter was beyond busy. So many hats to wear at the same time. They were too heavy. “But hey,” thought I, “Get through the week and then rest”. But the next week was even busier….. “I can do this”, I thought. Most of the demands were things I love to do: glass, cafe, guests, gardening. However there were what felt like a zillion other little things that needed to be done too. Tiny jobs: organise an electrician; message tenants; collect my new glasses; shop for food; make veggie sausages; meet up with friends; buy a birthday gift.

My body started to protest. Everything ached. Then it ached more. My brain failed to send messages to the right parts of my body. It took 40 minutes mid-week to persuade my body to get off a chair and walk back to the car to drive home. At the traffic lights I had to battle with my eyes not to close and just have a little cat nap.

Today I’ve just slept. I’m sure I feel worse for it. Not only are guilt and shame raging through me. Also totally embarrassment and a sense of patheticness. Then panic. I have so much to do. The weather is perfect to do it. I would really enjoy doing it too.  The customers would be so happy too, I love visiting these elderly ladies and chatting whilst gardening. But I’ve done nothing. Not even told the customers… I know this makes it worse but I just can’t, I’m just not there. The party I should be at tonight, I just can’t go. I know I can’t persuade my body to put on clothes and go out, it just will not cooperate. Hubby will have to phone, I’m too ashamed.

I’m going to stop now before i go on about how much stronger, stable, capable everyone i know is; how much more everyone I admire does etc etc… I know its a short phase rest will resolve.  So, despite my guilt I’m going to search out a sun lounger and go and snooze in the garden.  Will battle the guilt later xxx

 

It’s real but it’s not reality…..

11 Mar

menopause 5
I can feel myself slipping. Like I’m in a Banksy installation. “Un-fair”

I’m on the helter-skelter… only it’s slide is not very slippery  so some moments I’m slipping slowly down and in others  I’m grabbing the edge and bumping myself further down by force.  Not only am I slowly heading down the spiral but the spiral ends in a dark pit of sticky clay so should I get to the bottom by feet will quickly be caked and I’ll be fighting to wade my way back out.

There’s  a sombre inevitability about it. I’m on the ride and gravity suggests the easiest option is to keep on the ride.

But it’s  a shit ride and I want to climb off.

But do I ride the spiral and try to get off at the bottom? I don’t like the claggy thick clay. It’s really tough to wade through and I’m not sure I have the physical strength to do it.

The other option is to stand up on the unslippery slide and walk back up the slope, like a teenager in a kids playground. Declare the ride ‘crap’ and come back down the steps into my Spring garden which I know is just the other side of the gate. Resplendent with tete-a-tete,  daffodil, crocus, snowdrop, primrose and camellia all in full glorious bloom. I need to get back to my Monet.

At the moment I’m wedged a third of the way down this narrow slide and my too fat frame is friction-wedged against the rough metal. It’s a choice. Push down or pull up.

That . My, friends, is the beginning. I’ve been stuck in this bloody Un-fair for days and nights.

menopauseSo I’m stuck in an unreal reality. My head is showing me a gloomy backdrop which is blocking the real view. Some bastard has messed with my mirrors. It’s another exhibit in my Banksy Un-Fair. All the mirrors create a body dismorphic reality. My face is a Jackson Pollok. It’s me but it’s not ME .

I know what I’m seeing and feeling is not reality, but that doesn’t make it any less REAL.

If you suffer from depression , anxiety  or hormone related emotional imbalances (and many of you do, I know I’m far from unique) then perhaps you can relate to this.

I’m sad. I’m angry. I’m guilty. I’m frightened. Shall I ramble on? If I haven’t bored you to press the ‘back’ button yet the next chunk of self-indulgent morose rambling may just tip you over the edge.

So here I am in my rose-tinted world still yet, this week, I’m entangled in this heavy thick net from which I am desperately trying to extract myself but it’s becoming such a tangle I’m all tied up and tripping in the chaos of it.

menopause 4

I can see John out there trying to free me from it. I can hear him telling me to stop struggling as I’m making the tangle tighter. He’s trying to unknot me so I can squeeze out through a gap. I keep managing to get an arm out and he and friends are pulling  and holding onto me to stop me getting more entangled.

For that I am simultaneously grateful for the wonderful people around me. Sad, at the worry I’m causing. Guilty about being so pathetically self-indulgent. Angry that this has happened, to varying degrees, since I was a teen and still the medical profession fail to recognise or deal with women’s hormonal cycles. Never has a doctor suggested, acknowledged or acted on the obvious fact that I clearly have both a monthly and a quarterly spiral. Never.

So. I am grateful to you all for being.  I’m apologetic to you all for the lack of rosy-tint in these latest posts. And I am hopeful that the act of writing it (as grey and gloom filled as it is) will give my mind the strength it needs to lift itself up and drag my being back up the slope and so I can climb off this shitty ride.. .

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Brilliant blog posts on HonestMum.com

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Honestly i’m not a psycho bitch…

9 Mar

Note to self. At least 2 days prior to your period and until that moment of release ( readers you may recognise this switch moment in your own cycle) … until that moment, try your absolute best..  in fact, lock yourself in without access to social media, phones or people… Give someone else the key.. do not socialise, or communicate.. you can not be trusted to be rational or civil. Recognise you are a danger to your own sanity.  That you are likely to cause, at best, mild upset or offense to someone you care about.  Your brain has no control over your emotions; you overreact; you self-doubt; you lose confidence and competence.; you become intolerant and strike out. You cannot control this despite the talking to that you give yourself and despite the knowledge that if you gave it 48 hours normal responses and attitudes would prevail. You have now warned yourself. Let this be your reminder. Avoid human contact and keep your head down……

… as ever this sound advice fails to get actioned. Partly because sometimes commitments prevent isolation. Sometimes because no sane person is brave enough to suggest you’re not in the right mind to be allowed contact with the public.

So. Should you be one of the unfortunate ones who is on the receiving end of a 48hr madness of mine, I can but apologise profusely and hope that you know me well enough to know that I cannot help the temporary insanity my hormones induce every 28 days.

Normal service will be resumed shortly….

Migraines….

12 Feb

How many of you suffer from migraines?  Do you find their arrival predictable?  Do you have a recognised set of symptoms?

Personally I usually get mine at the beginning of or during my period (a common trigger apparently).  They begin with a mild headache that will not shake when normally a couple of paracetamol will quash it.  By the time I realise I’m getting a migraine there’s nothing I can do because I can’t keep anything down.

The headache takes on a pressure that makes my head and neck so heavy. My head throbs, my cheeks ache, my gums are painful, my eyes feel like they are bulging.  I then become supersensitive to light, movement and noise.  The pressure on my head makes me feel nauseous.  The only release is to vomit.    Thus starts a cycle of vomiting and agonising pain throbbing throughout my head,neck and face.  A dark quiet room is not dark enough or quiet enough.  I need a slight weight on my head and eyes so I put on an eye mask and I put on a hat or a compress.  I climb into bed in between trips to the bathroom to be sick and ride it out for about 8 hours.  Then I sleep.

The next day I am flimsy, that’s the best word I can come up with.  I feel very shaky and fragile.  I feel like I could use a head and neck brace… I feels I can barely support my own head without help.  I’m not sensitive to input but unable to keep up with it. I certainly am not safe to drive.  It’s like my eyes and ears see or hear something and there is a notable delay in processing.  That means I can cope with a small amount of input but if things happen too fast I can’t cope at all.

I know that the following morning the world will be ‘normal’ again.

Do any of you have regular, or predictable migraine symptoms? What are they? How do you deal with them?

Letting go of letting-go!

10 Jun

I am so very fortunate to know this amazing woman and I count her amongst my very few very best friends even though we’ve only known each other for a year.  She is truly inspirational. Her story is incredible…..

A few years ago, I had a series of heart attacks.  From out of nowhere they stopped me in my tracks and made me reconsider everything about my life.  You could say they were a major crossroads; I&#…

Source: Letting go of letting-go!

It’s all about you!

16 May

my amazing friend you have it nailed !!! We can talk about ME.. and YOU tomorrow xxxxxxx

Dinah's Blog

It is, it really is!  It’s all about YOU.  Isn’t that wonderful news?  Or is it rather scary?  We’ve grown up being told it’s not all about us, that we should focus more on those around us, make our mission in life to put others first.  And these are wise words.  Indeed, I am a great believer that focussing on others builds us as people and gives us huge joy.  So when did the rules change?

They changed the moment you decided to follow that dream – you remember, that crazy moment when you put on that new hat and said “I’m going into business on my own!”  The minute you decided to blaze your trail and join the ranks of the Entrepreneur, you changed the rules.

And if you didn’t you missed something HUGE!

Here are a few reasons why it’s all about YOU:

– YOU are the real…

View original post 220 more words

i’m crazy-mad with anger, frustration and confusion….

15 May

I can’t effing believe anything!! My head is fucking screaming.  I feel like I’m going crazy.  Seriously WHAT THE FUCK!!!!

minor operation Monday morning last.  sinuses.  no big deal.  Twenty minutes under a general anesthetic.  Discharged the next morning.  Warned of occasional nose bleeds.  Handed a batch of pain relief meds, some swabs, a letter for my doctor, advice on how to ‘nasal douche’, and told to not do anything too strenuous for a couple of weeks.

Okey dokey. Piece of piss.

WRONG!

WHO THE FUCK forgot to mention , never mind understated, the after effects of general anesthetic.  Even the little bitty one I had.  FOR FUCKS SAKE!  Excuse the bloody swearing but I’m down-right furious with paralysis of my brain.  I mean where the fuck has it gone?  I feel trippy(I imagine ). psychotic (i imagine), schizophrenic (i imagine), confused, lost, scared, sick and down right INEPT.

I can’t bloody function!!  I’ve turned into a MAN (sorry – now about to offend 50% of the population). BUUUUT, single track , single task ,single-minded (at best) brain function completely and utterly SUCKS.

Its shit.  Honestly – I can’t even make foUr people breakfast at the same time. GRRRRRRR

Honestly.  I feel light-headed.  I feel confused.  I’m having nightmares. hallucinations.  I can’t work out what I’ve done and what I’ve imagined (dreamt ) I’ve done.  Night sweats. I have moments when i can only describe as ‘out of body’..  I can’t focus. The frustration is driving me insane.  Or has the anesthetic driven me insane.  I know I was a bit quirky before.  But Christ I could do one thing and think about something else.  I could fry an egg and microwave some bloody baked beans at the same time.  This is SIX DAYS.  several somebodies cheered me up by suggesting it could be MONTHS until ‘normality ‘ resumed.

why don’t they tell you?!?!  NHS listen up . THIS IS A MASSIVE BIG DEAL.  ITS A LIFE STOPPER. A GAME CHANGER. A MIND FUCKER.  PREPARE PEOPLE FOR IT. FOR CHRIST’S SAKE!!!!  AAARRRGGHHHHHHHHHHH